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I shook my head.
“They have the best spaghetti and meatballs in town. I did you a favor.”
I snorted in shock at his arrogance but didn’t bother saying a thing in response. I licked my lips and glanced at my hands still in my lap, my fingers twined together nervously, because I’d pick at my clothing otherwise.
“I told you I wasn’t finished with you, Pyper.”
I snapped my head up at the sound of his commanding tone. My eyes widened at the authority in his voice. The possessiveness. “I don’t even know what that means,” I replied, my voice nothing but a soft whisper that had that smirk of his growing fuller.
There was something strange and enigmatic about this man. Something dangerous that had warning bells going off inside me. He had to be twenty years my senior, and I’d never wanted anyone more than I wanted him.
And by his statement, it was clear this man was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. He probably didn’t hear the word “no” very often, if at all.
What was it about Anthony Blackwell that did this foreign thing to me? How could one solitary person consume you so thoroughly in such a short amount of time?
“You know what it means.” He let those words sink in. “I’m a man who gets straight to the point. When I say something, I mean it, Pyper. And when I said this wasn’t over with, I meant that in every single way.” He leaned in, bracing his forearms on the table.
I could see the way the muscles bulged against the expensive material, remembering how he gripped my hips when he’d been giving me his cock hard and fast, fucking me from behind. The strength and power in his arms were such a turn-on that I probably could have orgasmed from the sight of them alone.
“You invited me here, and I’m sure it wasn’t for pasta. That’s not being ‘straight to the point.’”
Anthony just stared at me for a moment, his lips twitching as if he was trying to hold back a grin, before he grabbed his fork, put his napkin over his lap, and started eating, as if to pretend I was wrong. I, on the other hand, was too self-conscious and nervous about the conversation to eat right away. But when he gestured toward my plate, I figured maybe a little sustenance would help clear my thoughts.
At the very least, it would level out my blood sugar and help the dizziness. I felt like I was about to pass out, even though I was sitting down.
I took a bite and started chewing, then swallowed. I repeated this, barely tasting the food I was so tightly wound. Finally, I asked, “What is it exactly that you want, Mr. Blackwell?”
He smiled, but it seemed irritated in a way. “I think having my cock in your tight, wet, pink pussy and fucking you until you creamed all over my shaft makes things intimate enough between us that we can skip the formalities, baby doll.” He took a bite and chewed slowly. “Don’t you think, Pyper?”
I glanced around nervously. He’d spoken loud enough there was no way the waiters passing us as they hurried to the main dining area hadn’t heard. “Could you say that shit any louder?” My voice was a raised whisper filled with shock and my own irritation.
“Fuck everyone else.” Anthony stared at me with such intensity I exhaled slowly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he finally said after several long seconds.
He leaned back against the booth with his wine glass in hand. He let that hang between us as he took a sip of wine, while I went through the motions of eating and swallowing, then wiped my mouth. I needed more wine.
“Thoughts of you just kept pestering me for the last two days. They grew until it started to piss me off.”
I choked on what I’d just been sipping, surprised at his choice of words.
Pestering? Pissing him off?
“Sounds like a personal problem,” I snapped back, feeling a lot of fire in my veins.
For a second, Anthony didn’t respond, didn’t even show any expression on his face. Then a hardy, low chuckle oozed from him, making me shiver. “Nothing is ever personal to me… unless I’m fucking you. Then it’s real personal, Pyper.”
I felt my cheeks turn warm, knew they were probably tomato-red. This man had a way with words, the kind that stole a woman’s breath, had her heart racing, and caused her panties to dampen.
“Tell me, baby doll,” he said low, his tone laced with sexual intentions. “Did my cum leak out of you for hours like I told you it would?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to hold off the moan that would have spilled past my lips at his crude—so damn arousing—words.
“From your pretty, pink cheeks and the fact that you’re trying not to make those sexy little mewls for me again, I’m going to assume your panties have been wet ever since I filled you up with me.”
I closed my eyes and looked away, too embarrassed and turned on to meet his eye.
I clenched my thighs together, knowing I couldn’t hide how he affected me. Anthony Blackwell could read my body language as if he had a PhD in the subject.
“I have a proposition for you, Pyper, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
